Wanderer
by NetRaptor
Summary: When a ghost loses his Guardian in the Red War, he sets out into the wilds to grieve. He never expected to find a human with the Light among a refugee family ... and he's not sure he wants a new Guardian at all. But when Fallen hunt them down, the ghost must decide between his own grief and the death of his new friends.
1. Chapter 1

I lost my Guardian during the Red War.

It was a short war, all things considered. Five days of hell. The aliens called the Cabal attacked at night, using a thunderstorm to hide their ships from our sensors. They concentrated fire on the Tower, headquarters of the Vanguard and all Guardians. Our leadership was killed, confused, and scattered.

Then the Cabal attacked the Traveler itself, source of the Light that powers and immortalizes Guardians, creator of us ghosts. The Traveler has hung in the sky above the Last City for centuries, a mysterious, silent white globe. The Cabal trapped it within a powerful cage, cutting off all Guardians and Ghosts from the Light.

My Guardian, Thrand, was fighting Cabal on the ground in the City streets with his team, protecting a residential sector, buying time for the civilians to escape out the northwest gate. The Cabal came at us in a swarm: huge, hulking brutes in heavy armor, the horns on their helmets making them resemble space rhinos.

Thrand fought expertly, whether it was with a rifle at range, or hand to hand with a couple of knives. I remained hidden in phase, invisible, healing his wounds with Light.

Then the cage snapped into place around the Traveler.

The Cabal actually stopped attacking to watch and laugh. Thrand and his two friends staggered and fell as the Light deserted them. I thought I had died somehow. The link I shared with the Traveler had been cut, and suddenly my entire being was full of darkness. My scans went dark. My healing powers drained to nothing. My ability to resurrect Thrand vanished.

"What - what's happening?" Thrand cried to me, struggling to his feet.

"The Light," I gasped. "The Traveler. They've taken the Traveler."

Thrand looked up at the claw-like cage gripping the Traveler in the sky overhead. Then he helped up his teammates. And they grimly turned to face the Cabal, Lightless, weakened, mortal.

The Cabal captain pointed at us. "Kill them all," he ordered his troops.

My poor Guardian fought a desperate, losing battle. I struggled to heal him, to keep him on his feet as bullets tore through him and blades slashed him. But without Light, I barely had strength to heal at all.

They struck him down, as well as his teammates, trampling their bodies underfoot. Then the aliens moved on, attacking and slaughtering civilians.

I remained with Thrand, still invisible, trying to resurrect him. His spark persisted, weak and feeble without the Light to power it. If I didn't raise him soon, he'd fade and perish.

I tried for hours. The rain poured down, and the ships of the invaders swooped overhead. The ghosts belonging to Thrand's team tried to raise their Guardians, too.

At last, one of them cried, "My Guardian's spark is gone!" She fell out of the air and landed on her Guardian's corpse, making a terrible sobbing sound.

"No," I whispered. "Thrand, hold on. I'll raise you - I will-"

"My Guardian is dead," whispered the second ghost. He hung in the air, staring at the body. Then he turned and flew away aimlessly, wandering here and there, scanning the wreckage as if he'd lost his memory and reverted to hunting a new Guardian.

Then it was my turn to watch my Guardian's spark flicker and die. The bond between Guardian and ghost slowly tore away. Part of me died with Thrand at that moment, leaving my spark a feeble, flickering thing. He was gone, and I was severed.

I stayed with his body, numb, half-dead. Days passed. A great battle raged on across the solar system as the Vanguard rebuilt itself and fought to regain the City and the Traveler. But I remained with Thrand. He was gone, erased. How could his spirit have returned to the Traveler when we were cut off?

Five days after the invasion began, the Vanguard and a single Guardian who had regained their Light attacked the Cabal. They battled the Cabal general one on one. Then the Traveler, itself, awakened. It broke its cage and sent out a burst of Light that revived us ghosts, healed all the Guardians who had survived, and slaughtered our enemies.

But Thrand's spark was still gone.

Weeks passed. Survivors returned to bury the dead and rebuild. Thrand and his team were gathered and carried to a place outside the wall where they were collecting dead Guardians for burial. They lay in rows, wrapped in their own robes or capes, many with loyal ghosts still attending them.

The funeral was horrible. The Vanguard had a ceremony that lasted a whole day, mainly because it took that long to bury all the dead Guardians. The ghosts who had been severed drifted away, most of them wandering upward, toward the Traveler.

Thrand was gone. I had failed him. I wept tears of Light in silence.

As the funeral ended and everyone departed, I remained at the grave, hovering over the stone marker with Thrand's name etched on it. One of my friends, a ghost named Lina, lingered nearby, even though her Guardian was leaving.

"Sigma, what will you do?" Lina asked.

"I don't know," I replied. My core was hollow, my spark gone dim.

"Will ... will you return to the Traveler?" she asked timidly.

When a ghost lost their Guardian, it was customary to return to the Traveler, the being who created us, and merge back into the Great Consciousness. Part of me wanted that-to seek the Light, to bury my grief in oblivion.

But at this point, I had no direction, no goal. "Not yet," I told Lina. "It doesn't seem right not to ... not to mourn."

She gently leaned her shell against mine, the closest we ghosts came to a hug. "Well, keep us posted. My Guardian said you can stay with us as long as you like."

That was right. Thrand's apartment was destroyed, his belongings burned in the ruins of the old tower. I had nowhere to go.

"Thanks," I whispered.

But I didn't take her up on her offer. I spent my days either standing vigil at Thrand's grave, or resting under an awning in a corner of the new Tower roof, hidden, watching the other Guardians go about their business. I was no longer a part of that life.

My Guardian was gone. His spark had faded. Where would he have gone? Had some small fraction of him returned to the Traveler? Had the Darkness consumed him? Whatever happened, it was my fault for not being able to raise him. All us severed ghosts blamed ourselves, even knowing that losing the Light hadn't been our fault.

Thrand had named me Sigma. But he was gone, and I wondered if my name had gone, too. Who was I, without my Guardian? What was left of the ghost I had been?

I spent the short, cool summer in the Last City, spending my days in the Tower and my nights in the graveyard. I couldn't bear to leave Thrand alone, even though I knew his life was gone. A corner of my heart hoped that I'd detect his Light, and be able to resurrect him, pulling his quanta up through the ground, freeing him from the coffin.

But day after day passed, and no Light returned.

Other Hunters mourned Thrand. Nobody spoke of me. They probably assumed I had died, too, or returned to the Traveler. I was a single ghost, invisible among all the other ghosts in the Tower.

I had never been invisible to Thrand. I still wore the gleaming blue and orange shell he had given me. I missed him horribly. If only I could have told him about the way the Traveler had awakened. He'd have loved it.

As the seasons changed toward autumn, restlessness took hold of me. Perhaps it was the geese migrating south in great Vs. Perhaps it was the trees changing to red and gold. But the Tower felt too small, and the graveyard had grown too painful, with its daily dose of false hope.

One morning at dawn, I visited Thrand's grave for the last time.

"Goodbye, Guardian," I told the mound. "I am leaving. I don't know what will become of me. But if I'm slain out there in the wilds, perhaps my spark will find yours in the void." My voice caught. If I died, I would return to Light. But Thrand ... his spark had faded.

I hung in the air beside the marker, unwilling to leave him, even now. My poor Guardian, struck down so cruelly, even his immortality cut off. There was nothing I could do for him, crippled, severed ghost that I was.

I flew away from the City wall and south, into the wooded mountains, and didn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2: Humans

I wandered far from the Last City and the Traveler. Perhaps, somewhere out there, a new Guardian awaited me. But I didn't want one. I didn't want anything except the solitude to grieve.

I wandered through glades of fiery red, the leaves carpeting the ground in crimson. I flew along lakes that reflected the sky like a mirror. I watched rain pour from the clouds as lightning flashed and boomed. I saw countless animals going about their mysterious business - bears fishing, wolves howling, deer battling each other with their antlers.

The autumn turned to winter. The relentless cold tired me. I spent hours each morning basking in the sun, trying to warm my components. I missed Thrand's warmth, his smile, the way I never felt the cold because his spark warmed my core. Being alone was to feel the cold's bite as keenly as my loss.

I flew south, thinking of the geese. My flight was not so swift as theirs, but I used the winds to my advantage. The earth's magnetic field served as my guide, and like the birds, I migrated to warmer climates. I eventually reached a land without snow, a mild sun, and tropical forests. And palm trees. I beheld palm trees for the first time and laughed at them. Ridiculous excuses for trees they are, just a stick with a pompom on top.

When spring came and the sun's heat became unbearable, I followed the birds back north. I wandered and mapped the lands I saw, making note of Fallen encampments, and lush places where humans might return to colonize.

Sometimes, when loneliness became unbearable and the silence too deep, I would log on to the Ghost Gossip Network, or GGN. I never spoke, only listened to the chatter of my brethren. They talked of Vanguard news, the progress of rebuilding, and crazy things their Guardians had done. Unattached ghosts reported in from Earth and other planets, passing map data and observations on the movements of our enemies.

It comforted me to hear their voices and remember that I wasn't truly alone. But after a while, I began to remember Thrand too sharply, and logged off.

Six winters I migrated to the south lands. Six springs I returned north. Thrand's memory grew distant in my core. I worked hard to numb myself, to bury the pain, to forget. I used the GGN less and less often. I never spoke. I never hunted for the spark of a new Guardian. I lived like the animals, pushed about by the weather and seasons. Unlike them, I never had to hunt for food.

But a ghost is nourished on the Light, and I did not seek it anymore. The Light brought remembrance and sorrow. The Darkness offered only death. So I sought the twilight in between - the waking sleep of un-life, where I existed without thought, or feeling.

Perhaps such a place is where ghosts die. Their shells litter the planets, either cut down by an enemy, or fallen to earth like meteorites, their Light fading away. Perhaps that is the fate of ghosts who lose their Guardians - apathy and a slow, steady dimming.

Sometimes, however, I awoke a little. I discovered within me a starvation for the Light, and loneliness that threatened to break me to pieces. I remembered Thrand and mourned my Guardian anew. Then ... I slipped back into apathy, where I felt none of it.

One of the times I awoke, it was the middle of the night. It was my sixth migration north, and I was in the same country as the Last City.

As I updated my map data and longed for the Traveler, a glint of light caught my eye. Light in the dark forest!

I stole toward it, darting through the trees like a bat. My hunger for light, any light, was so powerful that I couldn't stay away. It was only a campfire, probably lit by Fallen. I would conceal myself and gaze upon the flames, dreaming of the Traveler and the light of the spark I had lost.

But to my surprise, I found three humans - a man, a woman, and a baby. The woman slept on a blanket, holding the baby close - it was very small, perhaps only a month old. The man sat close beside them, a well-worn rifle in his lap, gazing into the night.

The man's spark burned bright inside him, calling to me.

"No," I whispered. I didn't want a new Guardian. Not after Thrand. Not after numbing myself to the pain of grief and loss.

I spun and fled into the night. I screamed inside myself. _No no no no no no!_ No Guardians. No sparks. No more caring, only to be torn asunder. I couldn't bond to another Guardian. Not again.

I came to myself high in the branches of a tree, cowering in a hole in the trunk. The sun brightened the sky. I had fled blindly for most of the night, abandoning my rational mind for irrational fear.

I stared into the sun, longing for Light. That man had Light. He had a spark I could bond with. I could make him a Guardian, enable him to save the lives of his wife and child.

Then I choked. Memories of Thrand wrapped in his cloak flashed through my mind. How could I think of opening myself to that again? I had escaped the pain for six years. Never mind that I was starving to death and going mad with loneliness. I had to escape the pain. I had to not feel. I had to ... had to ...

I was flying over the treetops without noticing. Back toward that man and his spark. Back toward the Light that I craved. If he was smart, he would shoot me out of the air.

Maybe I could speak to him. Could I speak to another being? The last time I had spoken was to tell my dead Guardian goodbye.

My mind faded into gray apathy. I didn't care. I flew without thought, drifting above the trees.

But my own treacherous spark guided me straight back to the three humans, even without my mind being engaged.

I shouldn't have been able to find them in the wilderness. The forest was dense, and the valley was full of hills and little streams. The couple were hiking, watchful and wary, staying under cover. But the man's spark called to me from a distance, drawing me in.

I didn't want it and I craved it. I hated it and loved it. A new Guardian meant new anguish and grief, new pain. I couldn't bond again.

Yet I found the tiny family and followed them, darting from tree to tree, hoping to remain unnoticed.

They were young humans, barely in their twenties, but stress and poor food had left them looking old. The woman's face was lined with exhaustion. She carried her baby in a sling across her chest. She and the man looked around constantly, their fear palpable. They had the look of humans fleeing the Fallen or the Cabal. I calculated their trajectory. Ah, headed for the Last City. It would take them months to get there at their current speed.

I followed them until nightfall, when they made camp near a stream and lit a small fire.

"There's not much left," said the woman, opening a bundle and producing a few bits of food. Dried meat, a few nuts, withered berries.

The man dropped everything into a pot and set it over the fire. "It'll have to do. We haven't time to forage. The aliens may be upon us at any moment."

I scanned the area. There were no Fallen or Cabal for miles. But these humans had no way of knowing that. I wanted to reassure them, but I didn't trust myself to speak to them. Not yet.

They ate their meager supper. The man spread out a blanket for the woman and baby. As she lay down, she said, "You need rest, too, Charles."

Charles stroked her hair. "You need it more. Rest. I'll stand guard."

The woman cared for the baby, which cried a little. It was so weak. She must not be producing much milk.

My scans showed me how much food was in the area. Apple trees. Berry brambles. Fish in the stream. Cattail tubers. I could guide them into living off the land. But ... that meant revealing myself. I couldn't. Not to this Charles who could be my second Guardian.

The woman, whose name I learned was Naomi, settled down to sleep. Charles remained awake - for a while. About midnight he nodded off and slept with his back to a tree, his rifle in his lap.

I kept watch for him. Nothing disturbed their camp, and there were no aliens.

I followed them for days. I watched as Charles and Naomi cared for each other and their child. I watched as they took a day to forage and fish, missing two thirds of the forest's bounty. Fear haunted them.

I studied Charles's spark, wistfully. Some ghosts had bonded to their Guardians too quickly, not realizing that the soul was a tangled web of darkness and misery. Charles did carry his own suffering and sadness. But he bore such love for Naomi, it gave him a superhuman determination to protect her. He spoke of the Last City with hope.

He would make an excellent Guardian.

I'd followed them for a week like a hungry animal, starved for Light and companionship. Until the night Charles spotted me.

I carelessly let my blue eye-light show, let myself slip too close to their nightly campfire. At once, Charles was on his feet, aiming his rifle at me. I ducked behind a tree.

"Alien! Did you see it?"

Naomi sat tense beside him, clutching the baby against one shoulder. "Should I run?"

"They may have us surrounded." I heard the rasp of a knife. "If I die, use this on the baby, then yourself. Don't let them take you."

Her voice trembled. "I will."

The willingness of humans to sacrifice themselves. I remembered Thrand and hurt inside. How could I show myself without being instantly shot? I would have to speak to them.

"Don't-don't-don't-I'm-I'm ..."

My voice didn't want to work. Worse, my mind couldn't seem to form the words. Six years was a long time to live mute. Dumbfounded at my own ineptitude, I tried again. "P-p-p-please-"

"Is that a robot?" Naomi whispered. "It's speaking English."

"Fallen don't sound like that," Charles whispered. "It might be a ghost." He raised his voice. "If you're only a ghost, show yourself. I won't shoot."

I peeked out from behind the tree. Charles had lowered his rifle, although he still clutched it, ready to raise and fire. Slowly I emerged from hiding and floated there, the light of the fire barely illuminating me.

"Just a ghost," Naomi sighed, the tension leaving her. "A broken one."

Broken! I flew forward. "I'm not-not-not-"

By the Light, I _was_ broken. How did this happen?

They watched me, but without fear. Ghosts were harmless healers and bundles of scanning hardware.

"Have you a Guardian?" Charles asked.

I made the approximate movement of a negative head shake.

"Wanderer, then," Charles said. "You have scanners, right? How close are the Fallen?"

I obligingly ran a fresh scan, turning in a slow circle. Maybe if I limited myself to one-word answers, speech might be possible. "None. Eighteen. Miles."

"None for eighteen miles?" Charles repeated, raising his eyebrows.

I nodded.

He and Naomi relaxed, exchanging relieved smiles. She handed his knife back and settled into her blankets.

I wanted to help them. Light, they needed it so badly. I had to keep talking, relearn language. Charles never had to know that his spark was compatible with mine.

"I-I can help-help-help you," I told him, forcing the words out.

"Yes?" he said, eyeing me hopefully.

I activated my focused scan beam and played it across the ground. "Find-find-food. Show you."

"You could?" he said eagerly. "Tomorrow?"

I nodded.

"Thank you," he breathed. "Would ... would you like a blanket? Do ghosts sleep?"

He was offering me hospitality. They had next to nothing, and he was attempting to show me kindness. Nobody had so much as looked at me since Thrand died. In the Tower, I meant nothing. But here, in the wilds, to this poor, desperate family, I was important.

The grief I had numbed myself to crashed over me like an avalanche. I shuddered in midair and struggled to master myself. But I couldn't - even after six years. I made an awful, modulated cry and sank out of the air.

Charles caught me in both hands. I looked up at him from the depths of my weakness. People weren't supposed to touch unbonded ghosts. But at this point, I didn't care. The single offer of kindness had split me wide open.

"Hey," Charles said gently. "Don't cry, little Wanderer. Naomi, look. Did you know ghosts could cry?"

She looked at me, compassion gleaming in her tired eyes. Then she reached out and tried to wipe the leaking Light from my eye lens. "Poor baby ghost."

No Guardian would ever attempt such a thing. But these humans, knowing nothing of ghosts, treated me like a person worthy of care.

They laid me between Naomi and Charles on a spare blanket. They slept and I cried, leaking Light in endless streams that vanished away into the night. I mourned Thrand afresh. I wept because my own loneliness was so great, and these humans had offered me companionship. I wept because Charles had the spark of a Guardian and I was too afraid to bond to it.

At last I exhausted myself and slept.


	3. Chapter 3: Guardians

I awakened the next morning to the baby's feeble whimpering. Naomi sat up with him, shushing him and trying to nurse. Charles sat up, too, feeling for his rifle. His hand came down on me, warm and rough. He looked at me, and I blinked up at him.

"Still with us?" he said with a smile.

I floated into the air, spinning my segments. They gritted with dust. "You-you-you-starving?" I said.

Naomi and Charles nodded.

I nodded once. "I-I-help."

I had expected Naomi to stay behind. To my surprise, they packed their tiny camp, and she slung her baby against her chest. We set off into the woods together.

My time in the wilds meant that I had spent time comparing Tower records to my observations on local flora and fauna. I showed them dandelion and wild onions, cattails and strawberries, elderberries and mushrooms. I guided them to prime fishing pools and watched as Charles caught fish after fish.

At first they ate everything they gathered. But as their hunger abated, they began gathering things into bundles. That night, they cooked a pile of fish over a fire, and boiled cattail tubers. The baby nursed and nursed as Naomi's body finally produced proper amounts of milk.

We wandered about for days, guided by my scans, doing nothing but collecting food for the hungry family. I had the pleasure of seeing the light return to their eyes, and some of their fear abate. The baby grew stronger, too.

I forced myself to speak to them, carried on halting conversations, exercised that part of me that had begun to die. Slowly, the words came easier.

"Wh-where do y-you come from?" I asked them one evening, as Charles cleaned fish and Naomi laid them over the coals.

"The other side of the mountains," Charles replied. "Aliens attacked our village, destroyed everything. We barely made it out."

"We're headed to the Last City," Naomi said quietly. "I didn't know if we'd make it. But then you came along, Wanderer. You've saved our lives."

"You're wel-welcome," I replied. "How is the b-baby?"

"Much better," Naomi said, beaming. "He's getting enough to eat and sleeping properly again. He might ... actually make it." She stroked the top of the small head in her sling.

Charles looked up. "How long have you been out here, Wanderer?"

"Six years." I didn't want to talk about myself. Thrand's memory was a jagged ravine in my core.

"Only six years?" Charles said. "I thought the Traveler sent the ghosts out after the Collapse. Centuries ago."

It had taken me a hundred and five years to find Thrand. But I had been new, younger, full of hope and vision for my Guardian. Resurrecting him had been the single greatest achievement of my life. Together, we were stronger, smarter, more courageous. We shared absolute trust in the other's abilities.

But Thrand was gone, and I was old, feeble, barely able to speak at all.

How could I communicate that to Charles without stuttering for hours?

"I-I-I lost-lost-lost-lost-" I halted, trying to master my idiot voice. Even trying to speak the words set me trembling in midair. "I lost my-my-my-"

"He lost his Guardian," Naomi said, watching me. "Look at him, Charles. It broke him."

I was weeping Light again without meaning to. I turned my back to hide this embarrassment from my new friends.

Charles's strong, warm hand closed around me and turned me around. I blinked up at him. His eyes were compassionate. "Wanderer, I'm so sorry. We've lost everyone we knew. We understand."

Then he hugged me. Ghosts aren't exactly the most huggable shape, but he somehow managed it. His spark warmed me, brightening my own spark. I hid my eye against his shirt and held in my Light. The instinct to bond to his spark almost overpowered me. I couldn't - not without asking, explaining. Charles was alive, not a dusty corpse. He deserved a choice.

He released me, and I floated into the air. Although grief still pained me, my awful starvation for Light had diminished.

"Thank you," I said to both of them.

Naomi held out a hand. I flew to float over her palm. "You poor thing," she whispered. "How are you still alive? I thought ghosts died if they lost their Guardians."

I slowly shook my head. "Not always." Even though we wished we could. That's why so many returned to the Traveler.

I tried not to think about Charles and his spark. I could make him a Guardian, become his friend forever.

But fear held me back. I couldn't face the pain again. Not so soon. Besides, I had to explain, and how to explain when I could barely talk?

* * *

A few days later, I found an opportunity to speak to Charles alone.

He was fishing with one hand and balancing the baby on his shoulder with the other. The baby was happy and alert, holding his head up for minutes at a time to look around. Naomi was a hundred feet downstream, washing their clothes and the baby's diapers, spreading them on rocks to dry in the sun. The woods were quiet and peaceful, the birds singing. Nothing hostile registered on my scans.

"Charles," I ventured.

"Yes, Wanderer?"

"I ... need to-to-to tell you something."

He gave me a sharp look. "Are we in danger?"

"No," I assured him. "Nothing like th-that. What is-is your opinion of Guardians?"

He rocked back and forth a little to keep the baby happy, frowning. "Guardians. Well, they're risen corpses with powers, right? Ghosts make them."

"Yes." I didn't like his description. So negative, even if it was technically true.

"Well." Charles smiled briefly. "I'm glad they're on our side. I respect the way they defend Earth and the Traveler. But until one comes swooping in to save us, I don't care for them."

How could I respond to that? I looked sadly at his spark, so big and bright. Then I averted my gaze, staring into the rippling stream.

"Why do you ask?" Charles said after a moment.

I drew my segments together in a frown. "I could make you a-a-a-Guardian. You have the Light."

His head whipped around and he stared at me, wide-eyed. "You mean, if I die?"

"No," I said glumly. "Now."

"Wait a minute," he said, shifting the baby to his other shoulder. "Don't Guardians have to be resurrected? I thought ghosts just ... made them automatically."

"Not always," I said. "The sp-sp-spark is the thing. They can be living or d-dead."

"Well ..." Charles hesitated. "Why haven't you already done it, then?"

"Because." I made a sound like a sigh. "It has to be your ch-choice. I-I am a poor ghost."

Charles studied me for a moment. Then he gazed at Naomi, downstream. "I'd have to leave her, wouldn't I? I'd be sent to the other planets to fight the Darkness."

"Maybe," I admitted. "If you join the V-Vanguard."

"Then no," Charles said. "I won't abandon her and the baby in exchange for power. It's not worth it."

I understood his reasoning, but it didn't dull the disappointment. I hung in the air beside him, feeling the tantalizing pull of his spark, and felt as if a door had slammed shut in my face.

That was when I realized how much longer I had to live. Without Light, without a spark, I might last a few more months. Maybe long enough to guide them to the Last City. But my Light was dim from losing Thrand, from years of wandering alone, from starving myself. I was going to die without Charles.

I could argue that becoming a Guardian didn't mean splitting his family. I could argue that lots of Guardians took support roles instead of combat. So many arguments, and I was too weary to make them. So I floated in silence and tried to rise above the grief that would eventually quench my very Light.

"What was he like?" Charles said quietly. "Your Guardian."

"He was a Hunter named Th-Thrand," I replied, aching. "Always cheerful. Loved being outdoors. Great fighter. But ... reckless."

I trailed off, remembering Thrand hurling himself into battle, fighting with bullets and knives, laughing as he felled enemies with impossible shots.

"How did he die?" Charles asked.

"The Cabal," I said. "They cut off our Light. Turned Guardians mortal. Thrand died saving others."

"I wondered how he died and you didn't," Charles muttered. "Ghosts are pretty fragile."

I nodded. Why were we talking about this? Maybe he'd change his mind about being a Guardian. I tried to hold on to that hope, thin as it was.

Later on, after Naomi had finished the washing and was resting in the shade with the baby, Charles asked me, "Why do you say you're a poor ghost?"

So he _had_ been thinking about it.

"I am br-broken," I said sadly. "My Light is so-so dim. I don't know if I even have the st-st-strength to bond our sparks."

Charles scrutinized me, squinting. "But if you could make me a Guardian ... would that make a difference?"

Bonding to a spark as vibrant as his? "It would heal me, I-I think," I told him. "Y-your spark is bright. You would be a mighty Guardian."

Charles scowled. "But it would cost me Naomi."

"No," I said. "Not-not all Guardians join the Vanguard."

He grunted and stared into the stream. I remained beside him, wistfully feeling the glow of his spark. So near, so unattainable. I wouldn't force him to be my Guardian. That way lay a lifetime of conflict and misery.

He caught a fish and busied himself pulling it in. Then he caught another - fine fat bass. Our conversation about Guardians was over. I now had a little hope ... and a little more despair.


	4. Chapter 4: Fallen

Days passed. We kept traveling, stopping to gather food every time we happened across it. Charles, Naomi, and the baby slowly grew healthier. Their faces filled out, they could travel longer distances each day, and they slept better.

I anxiously measured our pace against the distance to the Last City. We were moving so slowly. At this rate, we wouldn't arrive until midwinter, and there was still the Twilight Gap to cross. It was a steep pass, the only way through the mountains, and winter turned it deadly. Many lives had been claimed on its barren heights.

At the same time, Naomi and the baby couldn't travel as quickly as I hoped they would. On days that they pushed hard and covered miles, the baby cried and seemed to grow ill.

Still, the mountains crept closer. I guided the humans toward the foot of the pass and kept a wary scan out for Fallen. They lurked in this area, preying on refugees and stealing supplies.

One night, as Charles and Naomi ate supper near their campfire, Charles suddenly said, "Naomi, I need to tell you something."

She looked up, inquiring.

Charles gazed at the fire. "Wanderer tells me that I could ... become a Guardian."

Naomi's mouth fell open in shock. "How can that be? You're not dead!"

He explained it to her as I had explained it to him. I listened with misgivings. Naomi's reactions were already negative, her face drawn in horror, silently shaking her head. When Charles finished, she exclaimed, "No! You can't! It would destroy us, Charles. They'd take you away to be a soldier. You'd be a slave to the Traveler like the rest of them. And - and I'd grow old, and you'd stay young." Her eyes filled with tears. She bowed her head over the baby in her lap.

Charles rubbed her shoulder. "I was just thinking ... we're entering Fallen territory. If I was a Guardian, I could protect you."

"You could," she snapped, looking at him, then me. "What then? We reach the City. They realize you're a Guardian. You go off with the Vanguard, while I live in some slum. They say Guardians forget their past lives - you'd forget me."

"Actually," I began.

Naomi pointed at me. "You stay out of this, Wanderer. This is your fault. You're trying to steal him from me."

The accusation stung. I didn't want to steal him - I wanted to enable him to better protect her. I was going to die without a Guardian, certainly, but ruining their family had never been my intent.

Although, that certainly was a possible outcome.

Charles tried to calm her. "Naomi, sweetheart, listen. I'm not trying to become a Guardian. I just wanted your opinion."

She gave it to him, loudly, until the baby began to cry. Then she got up and paced back and forth, making soothing sounds, while shooting me dirty looks.

Charles cleaned the dishes away in silence, packing their bags for the next day. He didn't look at me.

I retreated into the shadowy branches of the nearest tree to avoid Naomi's ire. She made several good points, and from her point of view, I was a threat. I rested on a branch, ashamed. As a Guardian, he would outlive her, and the child, too. How would that stress their relationship?

I wished I'd never found Charles. If only I'd remained in the wilds, blank and apathetic. I'd have died without ever noticing. Painlessly. Starved for Light, grieving my Guardian. But this little family would have starved, too.

I watched them roll out their blankets and settle down for the night. Naomi was crying now, and Charles soothed her. I wasn't welcome in their company tonight.

I kept watch in the tree all night. Nothing moved at close range, but at long range, miles away, I detected the disconcerting movements of alien forces.

* * *

The next day, Naomi treated me with such furious disgust that I kept my distance, following them through the trees. Charles never looked at me or spoke to me. They journeyed onward, and I trailed behind.

I could leave them, I supposed. But between Charles's spark calling to me, and the Fallen drawing ever nearer, I just couldn't. Naomi may hate me, but I couldn't bear to see her die, and the baby, too. The Fallen were butchers. I had to stay with the family, if only to guide them away from certain death.

Two days I kept my distance. But the morning of the third day, I timidly flew into camp.

"Where have you been?" Charles said, looking up from his breakfast. Naomi ignored me entirely.

"Around," I said. "Listen, there are F-F-Fallen less than a d-day's journey from here. We must be cautious."

That got their attention. Charles and Naomi exchanged frightened looks. Then Charles checked his rifle magazine.

"Down to half," he said quietly. "If the Fallen attack in large numbers, I won't be able to hold them off for long."

"What do we do?" Naomi whispered. Her anger with me had vanished in the face of this very real threat.

"I'll guide you as b-best I can," I said. "We must reach the Twilight Gap before winter, and there's still so far to go." I glanced at the distant mountains rising blue above the trees.

Charles rose to his feet, lifting his pack and his gun. "Let's move, then."

The Fallen had several encampments in the area, but various teams roved around, gathering resources. I kept my scans on high, watching for them. Twice, I had Charles and Naomi hide themselves in the undergrowth as a patrol passed nearby. The Fallen were humanoid, but with a set of extra arms that gave them a spider-like appearance. They had four eyes, sharp teeth and claws, and consumed a substance called ether rather than Earth foods. They carried knives, electrified spears, and energy weapons.

They were so much stronger than us. Our only hope was to outwit them, because we'd never survive a fight.

That night, Charles and Naomi again argued about Guardians, this time keeping their voices low. Naomi had switched back into operating on pure fear. She couldn't forecast the future, couldn't bear to upset the status quo, and blamed me for everything.

I listened, hiding in a tree, as usual. Despite the things she said, I couldn't hold it against her. She was terrified. Charles was, too, and my offer to make him a Guardian was awfully tempting as enemies surrounded them.

He stayed up that night to keep watch. Once Naomi and the baby were asleep, I flew down to him. "N-no hostiles within a mile."

"Thanks, Wanderer," he said, relaxing a little. He gazed into the darkness for a moment. "If I became a Guardian ... would I lose my memory?"

"That only happens when we resurrect our Guardians from dust," I explained. "We rebuild the brain from scratch. No memories. But you're alive. I won't change anything about you except to grant you a direct line to the Traveler's Light."

Charles studied me. "You're not stuttering."

"No," I said in surprise. "I guess not."

Being so close to his spark gave me a little Light, smoothing away the malfunctions in my core. I'd stutter again the second I left him, though.

Charles studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Becoming a Guardian is such a blessing and a curse. Would the Vanguard draft me?"

"Possibly," I said. "But most Guardians don't have families. More likely, they'd arrange for you to work in the Tower and live there with Naomi and the baby. This situation isn't exactly normal."

Charles drummed his fingers against his rifle's stock. "If ... If the Fallen kill me ... could you bring me back?"

He was already envisioning a desperate fight ahead of us.

"Yes," I said quietly. "As a Guardian."

He bowed his head for a long moment. "If it happens, it happens." He gave me a sharp look. "Otherwise, don't do it unless I ask."

"Of course not," I said wearily. "I'm your friend, not your master. I never wanted that."

Mollified, he sat back against a tree. "Keep your scans going, Wanderer. I don't plan to die tonight."

I kept watch, even letting him doze in the small hours of the morning. His Light fed me a little, but I needed so much more.

Not that it mattered much. If the Fallen sighted me, they wouldn't rest until there was nothing left of me but a few burned fragments.

* * *

We managed to avoid the Fallen for another week more. Our pace slowed as we traveled in zigzags, often hiding for hours and losing daylight.

The Fallen picked up our trail in the end. I had seen them hunt and knew that no matter how careful we were, their tracker Dregs would eventually sniff us out.

It was mid-afternoon, and we had been hurrying along a game trail that cut through the trees, keeping to cover. I detected several hostiles keeping pace with us about half a mile behind.

"They're tr-tracking us," I said in despair. "Five Fallen. Likely, they've already summoned a l-l-larger force to intercept us."

Charles swore. "I'll hold off the tracking team. Wanderer, take Naomi and go. Find a place to hide."

There was no hiding, once the Fallen had our trail. But I swallowed my despair and set off into the brush. "This way, h-hurry!"

Naomi followed me, supporting the baby in her sling, pale and wide-eyed.

I wouldn't have to see Charles die. I could bring him back. But I would have to see Naomi and the baby die, and I'd probably be killed, myself. I was only a ghost, with no weapons. The Traveler created me to support a Guardian, not fight battles alone. If only Charles had let me make him a Guardian! He'd be powerful enough to kill every Fallen in the area with his fists.

But I was alone, and Naomi and the child were my responsibility. So I led them uphill, among increasingly huge boulders. My scans showed a wide ravine slicing through the landscape not far off. I dimly hoped we could climb down into it and hide.

But when we reached it, the ravine turned out to be a canyon, hundreds of feet deep, with trees and a river in the bottom. Panting, Naomi looked at me. "We're trapped."

"M-maybe." The shreds of a plan were beginning to form in my mind. A desperate, crazy plan.

I flew along the ravine's edge until I found a boulder near the edge. There was just space between it and the cliff's edge for a person to hide.

"There," I said, indicating it with a scan beam. "Choke point. They-they have to come at us one at a time. You-you have your knife?"

Naomi nodded, squeezing along the narrow ledge. She crouched in a spot a few feet wide, drawing her knife, her other arm wrapped protectively around the baby in the sling.

"I'm setting a tr-trap," I told her. "If it doesn't work ... you know what to do."

Naomi nodded. A quick suicide on a knife was kinder than allowing the Fallen to flay off her skin and limbs.

Now, for the trap.

I flew out over the ravine, tracking, measuring, a fearful, sick feeling in my core. Transmatting was never supposed to be used this way. If the Traveler saw fit to strike me down for misusing Light, I would deserve it.

I set a transmat point a mile in the air, over the most jagged rocks I could find.

Then I returned to Naomi and waited.

In the distance, Charles's rifle cracked over and over. He had sixteen bullets left. I counted silently. After sixteen shots, his rifle fell silent.

Naomi had counted, too. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

I watched on scan as a mob of hostiles swarmed in our direction. "Twenty-eight F-Fallen headed this way."

Naomi gripped her knife. "Can your trap handle them?"

"Maybe." I gazed at her a moment. "I j-just wanted to say ... I'm s-s-sorry for making you and Charles fight."

She nodded. "I'm sorry for treating you so badly."

That fence was mended, anyway. If we died, at least I'd have no regrets.

"If-if I fall," I said, "use your knife."

Naomi nodded, but her eyes flashed with fight adrenaline. A snatch of something I'd read flickered through my mind - the female with young is the most dangerous of the species.

I hoped that little fact held true of female humans verses powerful alien warriors.

As the aliens closed in, I flew out of hiding and cursed them in their own language. "Your Archon drinks defiled ether from sick Servitors!"

They looked up, saw me, and snarled, teeth flashing in the sun. They raised their weapons and fired a rain of arc bolts at me.

I ducked behind the rock as the arc bolts sizzled on the ground or sailed off into the ravine. I waited, my transmat beam ready.

The first alien reached the cliff's edge and peered after me, hesitating to set foot on the narrow path between the rock and empty space.

I flashed my beam across him and sent him to my transmat point in the sky.

The alien vanished in a shimmer of light, reappeared in the distance, and fell with a shriek. He crunched distantly on the rocks.

The other aliens crowded up, snarling and cursing. I flashed them with my beam, over and over, transmatting them as quickly as I could. As soon as they vanished, more shoved their way in, waving guns and knives, trying to squeeze into the narrow path. Arc bolts whizzed by my face. I dodged and kept working.

I lost count of how many aliens I sent to their deaths. I was only aware of Naomi waiting tensely behind me, knife in hand, a poor defense against the seven-foot aliens in their armor. The only thing between her and death was a robot with no weapons, who had repurposed his own transmat beam.

The number of hostiles on my scan dwindled. I fought in desperate silence, my concentration absolute, sending them away, sending them away, sending them away.

The last alien rounded the corner at a run and threw a dagger at me.

I dodged, but not quickly enough. The dagger struck me. Something snapped. I spun through the air, struck the ground and rolled to a halt an inch from the cliff's edge.

Was I dead? Had it killed me? I couldn't move, but I could still see. I blinked up at the hulking alien as it crept along the narrow path, its four eyes fixed on Naomi. She faced it, teeth bared, knife ready.

She would die. It was a mathematical certainty. If the alien didn't kill her on the ledge, he would throw her off the cliff.

How badly was I hurt? Did my transmat beam still work? My systems flickered with errors. I fought through them, reaching for my beam. _One more time_ , I begged it. _One last beam, please!_

My systems stabilized for a quarter of a second. It was all I needed.

The alien slashed at Naomi. She parried the blow, but it knocked the blade from her hand. She faced the alien, unarmed.

My beam flashed.

The alien went to join his brethren in a long, long fall onto the rocks I had chosen for their final resting place.

Naomi gasped. There was silence for a long moment. No more aliens appeared. My flickering scans were empty. I stared at the cloudless sky. My repulsors didn't work and I couldn't move. "Na-Naomi," I said. "They-they-they're gone. Am I-I-I dead?"

She stooped and lifted me carefully. "Poor Wanderer," she murmured, gazing into my eye. "Half your shell is gone."

That was the snap I had heard. How was I still alive? My core had somehow escaped damage, although errors still flashed through my systems. I needed Light in order to heal. I had expended so much energy, my spark had been nearly quenched.

"Charles," I whispered. "We need-need-need to find him."

Holding me like a weapon in both hands, Naomi crept out from behind the rock. "Any aliens?"

"None," I replied.

She asked me this every few steps. My scans remained thankfully empty. I doubt I could have managed one more transmat.

We made our slow, careful way back to where we had left Charles. He wasn't there, but I sensed his spark, and guided Naomi into the brush.

Charles had made his last stand in a little clearing, keeping a tree trunk at his back. He lay at its foot, burned from arc bolts, bloody from stab wounds, the earth beneath him dark and sticky. Flies had settled on him in a cloud.

Naomi sobbed and waved them away, cupping Charles's cheek in her free hand. He had died with a grimace on his face, fighting to the end.

His spark burned on, bright, defiant, singing the song of a hero.

"Wanderer," Naomi choked, "can you-can you bring him back?"

"Yes," I said. "I think."

Half my shell was gone. My spark burned low. I was hungry, exhausted beyond measure, paralyzed. It was time to bond to my Guardian and raise him, but I feared I was too weak.

"Set m-me close to him," I said.

She did, placing me on the ground beside Charles's corpse. I focused on his glorious spark. The spark I was destined to bond with, even after losing my first Guardian.

I opened my shell and felt the remains of it crumble around me. I gave Charles my spark, my life, the pathetic little that remained. My vision darkened.

Then his Light flowed into me, reviving my spark, healing my systems. I gathered it up and used it to mend his broken body, sweeping my healing beam over him again and again. His being focused on my spark in recognition, and he touched me in greeting.

Further Light flowed into me. I, in turn, refocused it into a resurrection beam.

Charles drew a great breath and stirred. As he sat up, Naomi flung her arms around him, kissing him and crying.

I lay on the ground in the remains of my shell. I was reviving slowly, the Guardian bond working its way through me like a rising tide. I had been so starved for so long that my self-repairs might take days, instead of minutes.

As Naomi calmed down, she began to tell the story of how I had saved her and the baby. As she spoke, Charles reached down and gathered up my core and shell. He held me against his chest, as gentle and protective as he was with his own child. I closed my eye and rested, secure in my Guardian's touch.

Charles climbed to his feet, gazing around with an alertness he'd lacked before. "My rifle's out of ammo," he told Naomi, "but the Fallen have plenty of weapons." He walked back along the trail they had taken, examining the bodies of aliens he had killed. He found a high quality arc rifle and several ammo packs.

"Now, let them try ambushing us," he told Naomi. "I have the Light, now. I'm not afraid of them anymore."

Charles led the way, no longer wary and fearful. He consulted me every so often for scans and navigation. Naomi followed him, unsure and a little worried at this change in him.

I could have told her not to worry. Charles had the gifting of a Hunter, and this intensity had always been his - the Light merely amplified it.

As we looked for a campsite that night, I told Charles, "Fallen approaching from the east."

"Right," he said, lifting his stolen rifle. "Naomi, climb that tree. Stay above their line of sight." He boosted her into an oak tree and made certain she and the baby were concealed.

Then he looked at me, still cradled in his hand. "Can you heal me?"

"Yes, Guardian," I replied. I tried twice before I managed to phase, anchoring myself to his position in hyperspace. I could heal him from here, and be out of harm's way at the same time. But phasing had been out of the question when I had been starved for Light.

"Great," Charles said, depositing the bits of my shell in his pack. "Let's try out this Guardian thing."

When the Fallen reached our camp, they found not a pair of fearful humans, but a fully-fledged Guardian who had a score to settle. Their predatory swaggers changed to a panicked fight for their lives.

Charles didn't know the full extent of what he could do, now that the Light empowered him. But when he reached for it, I handed it to him, and it became an electrified staff in his hands. He spun it in circles, striking enemies and killing them with crackling bolts of lightning. It was savage and beautiful, and I loved it.

He hunted around and around the camp until the Fallen were eradicated, their bodies everywhere in the trees and brush. Then he calmly took their best weapons, ammo, and armor, and carried it all back to camp.

Naomi was terrified of him for a while after that. But Charles reassured her that he was himself - he merely had better fighting abilities now. He comforted her the way he always had, and they settled down to sleep.

"Wanderer," he thought to me, where I was hidden in phase. "Keep watch for us."

"Of course," I replied to his mind. "They'd be mad to attack us, now."

He yawned. "Tomorrow, I'm going to raid one of their camps for a pike. No point in walking when we can ride."

The sheer nerve of this thrilled me. "What gave you that idea?"

"I've wanted to do it since we got out here," he replied. "It's so hard on Naomi and the baby to travel on foot like this. But robbing the Fallen would have been suicide."

"Not anymore," I said.

"Not anymore," he agreed.

A little later, after Naomi and the baby were asleep, Charles thought to me again, "Wanderer?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for saving them. I've never heard of a ghost transmatting enemies before."

"Me neither," I replied ruefully. "I'm not entirely sure I didn't break some kind of rule. But I didn't want to see them die. And ... so I misused my Light. It almost killed me."

"I felt you struggling to raise me," he thought. "You were so weak. Are you any better now?" His concern touched me, as powerful as his concern for his wife and child.

"Much better," I reassured him. "Your spark has healed me." It also nourished me, satiating the terrible lonely hunger that had plagued me for six years. A ghost without Light is as good as dead. But now I was bonded to his great, fiery spark, brighter even than Thrand's had been. I was content, warm, secure in our bond. And I could talk again.

My only regret was losing my shell. It was my last connection with Thrand. Without it, I was only a small, naked core with no protection at all. So I hid in phase where nobody would see me.

A little later, Charles's drowsy thought reached me. "Should I still call you Wanderer, then?"

What had my original name been? I had to think for a while. Thrand had called me Sigma, but when he died, so had the name.

"Wanderer suits me," I told Charles. "But you could shorten it to Wand and I wouldn't mind."

"Wand," he thought with sleepy amusement. "My very own magic Wand."

Then he was asleep. I kept watch, powered by my Guardian's spark, thinking about the future.

Once we secured a pike, we could reach the Twilight Gap within two weeks. The crossing would take another three. Then we'd find the Last City spread out below us within its walls, the Traveler dominating the sky overhead.

They'd take us in, and there would be quite a stir when one of the refugees turned out to be a Guardian. They'd want to put Charles in the Vanguard at once. But I knew how the Vanguard worked. I'd steer him through the red tape, make sure he found a position that kept him close to his family and didn't ship him to the stars.

His son would be raised among the Tower elite. What an education he'd have. Naomi would be treated with the dignity she deserved. They'd have so many opportunities in the Last City.

I had lost my first Guardian, and I'd always miss him. But my second Guardian was just as exciting and satisfying, in completely different ways. More than just a Guardian, I had a family, and we were headed home.

Someday, I'd show Charles Thrand's grave. But for now, I was content to be finished grieving, to be moving on.

The Light would guide us home.

The end


End file.
